


fireproof

by zanykingmentality



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Attempt at Humor, Bad Flirting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Christmas Party, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, everyone is eccentric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13207188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanykingmentality/pseuds/zanykingmentality
Summary: Robin's job is as follows: do everything Chrom is too lazy to do.Could be a lot worse, honestly.





	1. the beginning of all things

**Author's Note:**

> my first!! multichap fic on here!!! I'm excited it's gonna be so good~ I have so many ideas and I hope I'll get all of them down! anyway I was watching the office and thinking about Fire Emblem so I figured why not this. 
> 
> As usual unbetad but spellchecked, don't hesitate to let me know if you see any lurking errors! Enjoy~

Listen, Robin hadn’t intended on breaking the coffee machine. Or on letting loose four raccoons into the office. 

 

These kinds of things just  _ happen. _ At least, that’s what he’s telling himself while he’s running around too early in the morning, chasing down raccoons who are  _ in their fucking element _ here. Jesus, it’s dark, and he can’t find the light switch, and any minute now Chrom is going to walk in and fire him on the spot. Even worse, the coffee machine is on the floor, the  _ expensive _ coffee machine, and there are parts of it that Robin doesn’t know how they even  _ fit _ with the rest of it. 

 

It’s a bit of a story. 

 

See, Robin thought he’d get into work a little earlier than usual. It’s his second day, and he wanted to make a good impression. But he neglected to notice the raccoons that were frolicking around the giant dumpster bin outside, and got the janitor to let him in. Easy enough, right? 

 

Nope. 

 

The janitor opened the door, rolling his eyes. Probably he’d enjoyed having the building to himself so he could play pong in the bathroom or something, because he immediately moved away to a different part of the building. As Robin held the heavy door open for himself and plodded in, the worst case scenario of what could have happened, happened. The raccoons probably smelled someone who was too hopeful about having a good day at work, so they leaped into the building and raced up the stairs. Robin shrieked and raced after them, long sweater flowing behind him. 

 

He accidentally hit the coffee machine when he was trying to catch a raccoon. It fell. And broke. God  _ fucking _ damn it. 

 

It’s official: today must be the worst day of his entire life. 

 

The raccoons are probably off somewhere gnawing on paper or whatever raccoons do when they get inside of offices, and Robin is tempted to just lie on the ground and go to sleep. He’s been at this for too long already. 

 

Every sound makes him jump, though, certain that it’ll be Chrom walking through the door to chew his ass out. He can’t take this anymore. He grabs his bag and stumbles out the door and into the hallway, finding the janitor in the communal restroom for their floor. Playing pong with red Solo cups. Of fucking course. 

 

“Oh. Hi.” Robin isn’t sure how he feels now that he knows the janitor  _ actually _ plays pong in the men’s bathroom, but like. Whatever, man. It’s only eight in the goddamn morning and it would take a lot to surprise him at this point with the day he’s been having. 

 

“Do you need something?” The janitor squints at Robin, like he’s either suspicious or really needs a pair of glasses. The evidence could point to either one, really. 

 

“This is a bathroom,” Robin says, lamely. Like he hasn’t just pointed out the painfully obvious. What else could it be, a five-star hotel complete with a jacuzzi and complimentary breadsticks? Yeah, definitely. If five-star hotels were tiny and had the only ugly shade of blue tiles on the walls, and the jacuzzi was actually a bunch of red cups lined up for a game of pong. 

 

“You don’t say.” The janitor turns his back to Robin. “Scram, kid. I got floors to clean.” 

 

“And pong to play,” Robin supplies helpfully. Something he can’t identify in a split second is thrown at his face and he ducks out of the way just in time. The air is too hostile here. Not like it isn’t hostile in the office, too. He’ll have to find a new place to hide.

 

Out in the hallway, he spots Chrom, shoulder exposed as per usual. (Well, as Robin imagines must be usual. He hasn’t seen Chrom without that shoulder exposed. Maybe it’s a superstition or something. Whatever.) It’s too late to hide ― blue eyes have already spotted him. 

 

“Robin! Our newest employee.” Chrom’s smile is almost blinding. Robin has no response but to flash him finger-guns. 

 

“Chrom! The boss. Boss man. What a cool boss man.” Robin wants to smack himself at how awkward he sounds. Chrom just laughs.

 

“I have a good feeling about today,” he says, and it’s enough to make Robin’s stomach sink almost to the floor. Oh, shit. The raccoons. The coffee machine. Today is gonna be  _ whack. _

 

“You go ahead,” Robin says. “I have to… go downstairs… and get coffee.” 

 

“By all means.” Chrom nods in a way that marks finality, like he’s some king that’s saying,  _ this conversation is now over. _ He goes on ahead, rounding the corner and moving to the office door. Any moment now. 

 

“What the  _ frick _ ?!” 

 

_ Haha, Chrom can’t swear _ is the first thought that flits through Robin’s head, instead of the other billion panicked thoughts he  _ should _ be having right now, like  _ oh my god he found the raccoons?? _ and  _ oh my god it’s my second day and I’m so about to get fired.  _ A few grayish blurs race by toward the stairs and Robin almost shrieks, stumbling backwards instinctively. RACCOONS. 

 

(Honestly. Fuck raccoons. He never wants to see another one of those demons ever again in his life.) 

 

Then Chrom’s back, slightly out of breath, eyes narrowed. Robin would probably be angry if raccoons snuck into his office too, honestly. But he can’t entertain that thought right now, because he’s sure any second now Chrom will connect the dots and fire him on the spot. 

 

“Thank god they didn’t do too much damage,” Chrom says. Robin blinks at him, surprised. “They just went through the trash. They couldn’t get the drawers open. We’ll have to replace the coffee machine, though.” 

 

“What a way to start the day,” Robin says, his voice as calm as he can get it to be. 

 

“Accidents happen,” Chrom says sagely, and Robin decides he will keep this secret with him until the day he dies. If every day is going to be like today, he almost hopes it’s sooner rather than later. “Well. Let’s clean up and get to work.” 

 

Dear god. Robin thinks he’s just been saved. 

 

* * *

 

“Morning, Lissa.”  _ Yesssss. _ Robin’s been working here two weeks and today is the first day he greeted the receptionist correctly. She beams up at him. 

 

“Hey, Robin!” Jesus, she’s cute. Not in a weird way, but in that little sister kind of way. The way you would be like, that little girl sure is a cutie.  _ Please. _ Robin’s not even into the loli-type. 

 

(What  _ is _ his type? Well. It’s a funny story. But that’s not for now.) 

 

Chrom looks up from his stack of paperwork when Robin raps his knuckles against the open door. “Morning, Chrom. I brought you a coffee.” 

 

A smile pulls at Chrom’s lips as Robin sets the mug down on his desk. He takes a sip ― too fast. He gulps it down too quickly and presses his lips together. “Thank you, Robin.” 

 

“Don't burn yourself,” Robin quips, amusement dancing in his eyes. “We need our boss in top condition so he can do his work.” 

 

Chrom sighs, exasperated but entertained anyway. Like someone he doesn’t like told him a really funny joke and he’s trying not to laugh on principle, but it doesn’t completely work out the way he wants it to. Not that Robin thinks Chrom doesn’t like him. He hasn’t been working here that long, anyway. “Nothing gets by you, does it?” 

 

Robin winks at him. “It’s one of the traits that makes me so good at my job.” 

 

“Truly.” Chrom shakes his head and shuffles the papers on his desk. He stretches, one arm without a sleeve, tattoo exposed. Robin eyes it and almost asks what it means, why no matter what he wears it’s never covered up. He doesn’t, though. His mouth is dry and he can’t seem to find the right words to say. 

 

“Well ― I’d better get back to work.” He’s careful not to stumble over his words. Chrom clears his throat. 

 

“Yes. That. Work. To another good day?” He raises his mug in something akin to a toast. 

 

Robin holds a hand up, as if he had a glass in his hand to make a toast with. “To another good day.” Then he heads back to his desk, one person throwing wadded up sheets of paper at him, and another looking over his shoulder suspiciously. Jesus, it’s like being in high school again. 

 

He logs into his computer.  _ To another good day. _

 

* * *

 

“Is this one of last week’s expense reports?” Robin unfolds one of the many crumpled up pieces of paper on the floor next to him. Sure enough, it's one the reports Chrom had him make to pass out to everyone to fill out. He turns to the person who is  _ always fucking throwing paper at him Jesus fucking Christ.  _

 

“Vaike,” he starts, but he doesn't get to finish. As if on cue, another balled-up piece of paper lands squarely on his desk. Vaike looks over at someone who works in like, quality assurance or something. (Do they even  _ have _ quality assurance? Shouldn't Robin know this? Oh my god, does he have dementia? No, of course not. He's only in like, his twenties. He's fine. It's fine.) 

 

“You see that, Maribelle? You gotta applaud that one.” Vaike’s voice absolutely Grinds Robin’s Gears. Really rustles his jimmies. What a little ―

 

“Uncultured peasant” is all Maribelle says, sniffing indignantly. Chalk one up for Miss Prim Princess! Hell yeah. Robin catches her eye and grins, but she just rolls her eyes at him. God  _ damn.  _

 

Robin stretches and decides he needs a break. 

 

Up on the roof, wind whips through his hair. It would be a lot more peaceful if he couldn’t hear cars honking from the road, practically hundreds of stories below. Well. Maybe not hundreds, but it certainly feels like it, standing up here with the cold wind nipping at his skin and misty city horizon stretching out for miles. One corner of the roof contains a couple of smashed beer bottles and a table that’s teetering on one leg. That table gives Robin anxiety, Jesus Christ. So he doesn’t focus on it. But there it  _ is _ , in his periphery, wobbling and moving with every gust of wind, and god _ damn _ it he came up here to relax but it is  _ not _ working. 

 

* * *

 

“Robin? Why… Why are you in the supply closet?”

 

His teeth chatter when he answers. “I pushed the table off.” 

 

Jesus  _ fuck. _ It better not have hit someone’s car.

 

* * *

 

Lunch break at the office is never a boring time. Robin shares his lunch break with Stahl, Cordelia, Sumia, Gaius, and Chrom on the rare occasion he’s not too busy avoiding the head of Human Resources. (Frederick can be quite the character, even when he’s not scrambling to pick up every fleck of dust in Chrom’s path.) 

 

Stahl seems ordinary to the untrained eye, and Robin is loathe to admit he too was fooled by that damn charming smile at first. It’s true Stahl is one of their more normal but dedicated workers, unwavering without the extremities that some others go to. Even if Robin caught him growing tomatoes in the men’s bathroom. 

 

It’s kind of a funny story. Turns out Stahl is a bit of a cooking prodigy, and an expert in herbal medicine with a thumb green as a healthy leaf. In summer, of course, because leaves in autumn and winter are dead, and hardly more than buds in the spring. Anyway, someone from one of the other offices in the building handed him a packet of tomato seeds one day, or so the story goes. In the privacy of his own mind, Robin still thinks Stahl probably bought them himself for the sole purpose of planting them in the men’s bathroom, but whatever. Anyway, Stahl had supposedly been swamped at work that day and hadn’t gotten the time to ever address the tomato seeds in his drawer until three-fourths of the way through the day. (Three-fourths precisely, he’s insisted, every time he’s told this story. Which has been like, twelve times since it happened last month.) In a brilliant stroke of ingenuity, Stahl had decided to throw the seeds into the soil-filled pot in the men’s bathroom, where flowers lived before raccoons invaded and ate them. 

 

(Listen. Robin hadn’t intended for that to happen either.) 

 

Anyway, a month later, after Robin had been working there for that same amount of time, he went to the bathroom at work for  _ once _ and just saw fucking green-red tomato fruits clinging to a bush slowly growing in size. Had no one noticed it before? Did they just not care? And most importantly,  _ why _ ? As if on cue, Stahl walked in, whistling earnestly to himself. Robin had turned at him with an almost murderous glint in his eye and hissed, “Stahl,  _ what _ is  _ this _ ?” 

 

“Uh… Tomatoes?” 

 

“ _ Why _ ?” 

 

That’s when Stahl had spilled the whole story, and to this day, Robin is still  _ slightly _ peeved off about it. During lunch break, he leans forward on his elbows, cynical smirk on his lips. “Grow any tomatoes recently, Stahl?” The brown-haired concept artist swallows thickly. 

 

“Uh… no,” he says, laughing nervously. “But I’m hoping they’ll taste great in beef stroganoff.” 

 

Sounds gross. “You do you, buddy.” Robin doesn’t like tomatoes, anyway. 

 

“What’s with you and the tomatoes, Robin?  _ Honestly _ .” Cordelia, in all her majesty, says this mostly as a joke than anything else, more as a thing to casually laugh about, like  _ haha Robin likes tomatoes, what could this mean. _ Well Robin does  _ not _ like tomatoes, thank you very much. They’re  _ disgusting _ . Especially in the  _ men’s bathroom. _ He chuckles anyway, even if it’s forced. 

 

“I hate tomatoes,” he says, as if it weren’t obvious enough already.

 

Sumia takes an orange out of her brown paper bag, turning the fruit over in her hands.  It gives Robin flashbacks to elementary school, brown paper bag slouched on the tabletop, apple resting next to it, ruler in the teacher’s hands. 

 

“I want Chrom to shove an unpeeled orange up my ass and eat it,” Gaius says casually, like he could’ve simply been noting the weather. Robin chokes on his soup.

 

Jesus Christ, save him. 

 

* * *

 

Sully is one of the best drivers in the office. 

 

Which  _ would  _ make her one of the best deliverers, but her attitude is something completely different. 

 

Robin’s been learning the concept of showing, not telling, so it goes like this: the last time Sully went to make a delivery, the client found her attractive and started hitting on her, even though anyone who’d spent even two minutes around Sully would know she wasn’t an easy-to-win character. At all. The way Sully tells the story, the man wiggled his eyebrows at her after spewing some cheesy as shit pickup line, and that was when she’d had it ― the next thing they knew, Sully was back, blood on her knuckles. She hadn’t killed the guy, but anyone who could see would be able to tell he wouldn’t wake up for at least a day. They don’t send Sully out on deliveries anymore. 

 

Since then, Sully’s been functioning more as a bodyguard than anything else, even if she sometimes smacks the copier machine until it starts working. (She likes to argue she’s protecting them from failing at their jobs, because they need all the help they can get. Ha, ha,  _ very _ funny, Sully. Don’t forget Robin holds your job in the palms of his hands,  _ Sully. _ ) She’s very good at the job, especially with the whole intimidation factor. 

 

One thing Robin had never seen coming? A race. 

 

The thing about races, especially ones with  _ cars _ , is that they’re usually better off left to professionals in NASCAR or the Olympics or whatever. Robin doesn’t keep up with sports. (A more fair assumption would be to say he knew next to  _ nothing _ about them.) But Sully is very into the idea of racing, more so the idea of  _ winning _ , and once she has that determined look in her eyes Robin knows there’s no holding her back. 

 

Gaius claps his hands together loudly. “Alright! This race taking place between Spear Chick and Shortstuff―”

 

“ _ Sully _ and  _ Ricken _ ,” Robin says, almost under his breath. 

 

“Heard that, Bubbles. Shut up.” Gaius turns around to Robin and winks, shifting around the lollipop in his mouth. Haha, he succ. What? Robin didn’t think anything weird. Not at all. He definitely has not been staying up late at night on the computer looking at shitty memes with his cat crawling over his palms. “Anyway! You guys’ll be racing through the city streets, so take special care to break the law!” 

 

“Please don’t,” Chrom says. He had been completely against this idea, but Sully has a way of convincing people to do what she wants. (Read: she’s  _ scary _ .) 

 

“The two delivery locations are on opposite sides of the city, but they’re the same distance away from here! The first person to make the delivery and get back safely is the winner!” Gaius ignores everyone else crowded around the parking lot and pops the lollipop out of his mouth, pointing it at Sully, seated in her car. She revs her engine. From his spot in his car, Ricken visibly pales. Poor kid. He might be the youngest person in the office at the moment, but he was raring to go at a challenge. There’s a lollipop that’s been sitting in one of Robin’s drawers for about a week; he’ll remember to give it to Ricken later, even if he doesn’t win. 

 

“Ready!” Hands on the wheel. “Set!” Engines rev. “Go!” 

 

The cars take off! There they go! 

 

This can only end badly. 

 

* * *

 

“Is this a pity treat?” Ricken stares at the lollipop in Robin’s hand, voice deadpan and bordering on murderous. 

 

“No,” Robin says, trying to defend himself. “Maybe I just wanted to give you a lollipop.” 

 

Ricken rolls his eyes and steps away. It takes Robin almost ten seconds to realize the lollipop is no longer in his hands. Later when he walks by Ricken’s desk he sees a lollipop wrapper in the wastebin. 

 

He can’t decide whether Ricken took it or Gaius got to it. 

 

* * *

 

Oh, Robin’s forgot to tell his audience what their company does. Uh… audience? Is he really seeing his life as a sitcom now? (Well, it might as well be. Things are weird enough here.) They’re technically an indie game company; they do everything involved with making games and marketing by themselves. Robin is assistant manager, much to Frederick’s chagrin. His job includes sometimes posting updates on their social media page, training workers, doing others’ jobs for them ― basically doing whatever Chrom doesn’t feel like doing. Sometimes he gets sent out on full-office coffee runs, because the nice coffee machine is still broken and they haven’t replaced it yet. And Miriel always orders some special kind of green tea that they don’t sell at the Starbucks across the street, so Robin has to drive two blocks away to fucking Sweet Waters and ask for their Extra Special Giant Green Tea. What’s even so special about tea anyway? It’s fucking leaf water. 

 

And coffee is bean juice, but that’s not the point here. 

 

(Where’s coffee’s original home? Robin should look it up when he gets back to the office.) 

 

The nice thing about getting set on coffee runs, though, is Robin has time to himself. He gets a breathing moment in the middle of the day to sit behind the wheel in front of Sweet Waters and get into some introspective thinking, because he’s always done his best self-analysis when he’s procrastinating doing something he doesn’t want to do. 

 

The worst thing? On very rare occasions, Chrom decides he wants to come with. 

 

Except  _ rare occasions _ doesn’t mean once every so often, enough that it’s not awkward.  _ Rare occasions _ means this is the first time Chrom has ever asked if he can accompany Robin on his mundane everyday passings and goings, and how was Robin supposed to say no to a face that eager and interested? Also, Chrom is his boss, and he doesn’t want to know how much will get illegally docked from his pay if he doesn’t acquiesce. (But let’s be real, Chrom is too good to ever even  _ consider _ that. It would definitely be Frederick.) 

 

So Robin’s sitting in the car, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as they’re pulled up in front of Sweet Waters. “Miriel loves this place,” Chrom comments. “How did you know?” 

 

Robin looks at him, almost wearily, but he tries for a joke. “I have my ways.” 

 

Chrom’s blue-blue gaze looks Robin once over, like he’s staring into his soul except his soul is lingering on his cheeks and nope Robin is just imagining that, he’s really way too tired. “Alright.” Chrom claps his hands together, breaking the deafening silence of watcher and watched. “Shall we go inside? We mustn’t keep the troops waiting.” 

 

Robin breathes out a laugh ― not enough to make his eyes crinkle and voice crack, but just enough to make him feel a little less tired, a little less dead. Their company is a nice place to work, when Robin isn’t balancing this along with teaching a college course Tuesday afternoons and devoting enough time to his cat, Morgan, who’s going through his rebellious teen phase. Weird how even cats have those. 

 

“Yeah. Let’s go.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are two new hires, Chrom continues to be swoonworthy, and Robin finally starts to understand Frederick a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me a whole fucking year to write this chapter but guess what yall I did it. It's weird and random and I've worked on it at odd hours of night in between SAT prep and essays so please just. Just take it. And enjoy it. Thank u. 
> 
> As usual it's unbetaed, so please excuse any errors left lurking in the corners!

The audience returns. Wave hello, Robin. 

 

...He really needs to get more sleep. He waves to the air anyway. Besides, there’s no harm in a friendly wave, right? Wrong. He accidentally hits a crow out of the air. 

 

“What the fuck,” he says, or at least he’s pretty sure he says it. Maybe he just thinks it. Anyway, some guy with bleach-white hair is staring with  _ murderous _ intent, so Robin takes off running. What a great way to start the morning. Holding a bag of Chinese takeout and walking home because he was a  _ dumbass _ and decided to get some exercise. Winter is not the time for exercise, Robin. It is the time of huddling in your bed while your cat claws at your face because it’s too excited to sit still. That’s how Robin likes to interpret it, anyway. 

 

* * *

 

It’s been about a three and a half months since the whole raccoon incident, and Robin is doing Just Fine ™. Chrom keeps him busy enough, so he can usually spend his time ignoring what hijinks the rest of the office gets up to. Granted, paying attention to them is technically in his job description, but there’s only so much stress one person can take. It’s like Robin has a giant family and each person is at everyone else’s throats all the time, but at the same time everyone loves each other and wants the best. It’s the strangest dynamic. So he stays out of it. 

 

Mostly. 

 

“Do you dare me to tell a cheesy pickup line to Miriel?” Vaike grins when he looks over at Robin, you know, like he asked a question and is expecting Robin to answer or something. Huh. Robin massages his temples and pointedly ignores Vaike. 

 

“Hey. Hey. Heeeeyyyyyy.” The word eventually gets so drawn out in Vaike’s whine that’s it’s no longer distinguishable as an existing word. It ends up sounding more like HGYEAYYYYYYYY. 

 

“No,” Robin says. “I do not dare you to tell Miriel a cheesy pickup line. In fact, that is the very thing I want you  _ not _ to do.” 

 

“Aw man, I can’t believe you’re daring me to tell Miriel a cheesy pickup line.” Vaike grins and leans across the aisle, where Miriel sits, probably listening to their conversation. “Hey, Miri. Do you have a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants.” 

 

Robin tries not to laugh. It’s only partly because Miriel is wearing a skirt. 

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Blue,” Gaius says one day at lunch. “You think updog will increase our sales?” 

 

Immediately, Robin wants to sink into the floor. Today is one of the rare occurrences in which Frederick is too busy with work to be chasing their boss around the building. Cordelia and Stahl both look at him like he’s gone crazy. Sumia giggles behind her hand; of course she’d be into memes, why did Robin assume someone so ostensibly pure didn’t get up to weird shit on the internet? Then again, weird shit on the internet is like, his middle name. 

 

“Pardon?” Chrom’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to.” 

 

Gaius wears a shit-eating grin. Robin almost wants to punch him, but he’s devoted himself to being the only professional one in this office at this point. “You know. Updog. I hear all the big companies are using it to get people hooked on their products.” 

 

“Wouldn’t that be illegal?” Cordelia asks. “The use of addictive substances to trick consumers into buying a product is very strictly prohibited. We would have to be completely upfront about the addictive nature of our product in advertisements.” 

 

“We don’t really know what Gaius is talking about when he says updog,” Stahl adds helpfully. “It could be like, a new marketing tactic or something.” 

 

Sumia is  _ losing it _ in her seat, shaking, trying to contain her laughs. Why does Robin work at this company again? Oh, right, because he likes games and he’s willing to suffer for money. Morgan demands a life of luxury, after all. And teaching once a week does  _ not _ pay him enough. 

 

It’s Robin’s turn to pitch in, and luckily he’s always been really good at keeping a straight face. He  _ is _ the one in charge of strategy, after all. “Maybe updog is like a dog that… makes sales… go up.” Nailed it. 

 

“That’s a good insight, Robin,” Chrom says, and Robin mentally fistpumps. Haha, his dumb shit paid off and he got a compliment from the boss. That’s always a good time. “Gaius, please enlighten us. What is updog?” Robin, Sumia, and Gaius burst into laughter. 

 

“Not much man, what’s up with you?” Gaius only manages to gasp out the response through his intense giggling. Stahl immediately chimes in with the laughter, leaving only Chrom and Cordelia confused. 

 

Chrom frowns. “I don’t understand.” 

 

“I’m sure it’s a joke we are not privy to, boss,” Cordelia says. Nobody except Chrom misses the way her cheeks flush when she sees the boss. Man, doesn’t matter if Chrom is a total hunk, employee/boss relationships are always so weird. Like it would be weird to date Chrom, even if he’s totally awesome and objectively super attractive and you know, all normal things that are normal to think when considering an attractive person who happens to be your boss. Robin should stop rambling to himself now. 

 

“Poor man,” Gaius says. “He doesn’t know a meme.” 

 

“I know a meme,” Sumia says sagely. 

 

“Good for you, Stumbles.” 

 

* * *

 

“Morning, Robin.” 

 

“Good morning, Chrom.” 

 

“Can I see you in my office after work today?” 

 

“Sure.” 

 

* * *

 

When Robin sits down in the chair across from Chrom, he’s not expecting their conversation to be anything unrelated to work. And indeed, at first, he’s not wrong. 

 

“We need more artists,” Chrom says, tapping his pen on the table. “Our current artists work on the game, but it’s hard for them to also design and draw the advertisements, too. I have some applicants, but I want you to help me make the decision.” 

 

“Of course,” Robin says. He can’t refuse anyway; this is his job. Chrom passes a folder of resumes across the table and Robin idly flips through it, skimming each page. 

 

“Also,” Chrom starts, “how experienced are you in the world of romance?” 

 

Robin chokes on his own fucking spit. It’s Monday so he can’t even use teaching as an excuse to run away from this conversation. “A bit,” he says, carefully. Part of him wants to say,  _ Yeah, I know enough to not be a dick to people,  _ but he decides not to. 

 

“Help me with a question I’ve been pondering of late,” Chrom says, and Robin’s heart almost stops with the capital-L Look Chrom fixes him with. 

 

“S-Sure,” he stammers. Fuck, dude, he’s usually not stammer-y and nervous like, ever. Personally, Robin blames Chrom for being his boss, but also for being so unfairly attractive. It’s stupid, is what it is. Someone should teach that beautiful man a lesson. Robin’s just the person, actually. He’ll teach Chrom a real good lesson  _ with his lips  _ _ ― _

 

“How might one gauge if another is attracted?” The tips of Chrom’s ears burn red, and it’s all Robin can do not to scream and laugh all at the same time. His lips part for a breath and shit, Robin’s staring, he needs to say something ―

 

“It’s hard to tell,” he squeaks. His gaze returns to the open folder in his hands. “Usually, you don’t know if someone doesn’t say so…” There’s an implication there, but he doesn’t pursue it any further. 

 

“I see.” Chrom closes his eyes to think, and Robin flips back through the applications. 

 

“How about these two?” he says, pulling two sheets from the stack. Chrom’s eyes snap open like he’s expecting something, but he immediately relaxes. 

 

“Ah, yes. The applicants.” He frowns. “Are you sure these are qualified?” 

 

“Their portfolios are pretty impressive,” Robin says. 

 

“I’ll trust you on this,” Chrom says. “I’ll make the call.” 

 

* * *

 

Henry. College major: graphic design, minor in history. Aged twenty-four. 

 

Tharja. College major: multimedia, minor in criminology. Aged twenty-four. 

 

When they introduce themselves, Robin almost shits himself. Tharja’s hair is longer and darker than it seemed in her picture, and Henry has a strange twinkle in his narrowed eyes. Robin can’t tell if those traits are intentional, or if that’s just the way they are, but he’s not going to ask any questions. It would be fucking rude, after all, and he’s not in the business of being rude to people. He’s in the business of working with people to produce and sell games. And also teaching on the side, but that’s neither here nor there. 

 

“Hello,” Tharja says. Her voice is low and raspy. Henry doesn’t even introduce himself, just smiles and waves. 

 

“These are our two new artists, Tharja and Henry,” Chrom says, gesturing to them grandly. “Please be kind to them.” 

 

Gaius, who’s leaning with his palm pressed on Robin’s desk, murmurs, “Man, I can’t wait to get my ass handed to me by them.” 

 

“Go back to accounting,” Robin hisses back. 

 

* * *

 

The artificial Christmas tree in the corner of the office is really what makes it more festive than usual. Christmas is in a couple of weeks, and most people took the entire week off. They’ve been busy, after all; making games isn’t exactly the easiest profession, nor does it get money pouring in from every nook and cranny. Luckily, they’re popular enough that their games at least make it on the shelves repeatedly, or they’d all be  _ screwed. _

 

One nice thing about being in the gaming industry, though, is that most of the people are…  _ passionate _ about what they do. 

 

Take Frederick, for example. 

 

Robin’s making a spreadsheet of anticipated release dates and competition to figure out the best time to release their game when Frederick materializes behind him. God  _ damn _ that hunk of a man and his vast array of skills of which include super stealth. 

 

“AH!” Robin starts at the reflection of Frederick’s serious expression in his computer. He quickly spins around in his chair, hand to his chest. “Jesus. What?” 

 

“I’ve noticed milord Chrom seems a bit down of late,” Frederick says. “Have you any theories as to why this may be?” 

 

“Okay, first of all, quit it with the milord sh ―  _ stuff. _ Just call him boss or like,  _ super hot _ like the rest of us do.” 

 

“I refuse to appropriate milord in any such way. He receives my utmost devotion and respect, and I shall treat him accordingly.” 

 

Robin rolls his eyes. God, Frederick is infuriating. It’s impossible to do anything with him around. He’s such a narc. Which is probably why he doesn’t get invited to many of the parties their coworkers throw. Poor guy. Probably deserves it, though. They’re adults. They can drink. Robin can even drink coffee now without going absolutely batshit insane. (That had been a problem in high school.) 

 

“Whatever. Why don’t you just ask him?” 

 

“You know how milord is,” Frederick presses. “He claims nothing is the matter, but having been by his side for so long, I know how to tell when he is lying.” 

 

“What, were you his babysitter or something?” Robin snorts to himself, meaning it as a tiny quip that they could harmlessly glance over, but Frederick’s response is immediate. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Uh… okay. Well, if you know him so well, why would you come to me?” 

 

“You work closest with him, aside from myself. If it is a subject that I know not of, it’s likely you hold a satisfactory answer.” 

 

“I don’t know,” Robin says. He turns back to his computer. This conversation is  _ over. _ Frederick doesn’t seem to get the hint, but Robin just ignores him until he leaves. They should be doing Christmas shit anyway. Fucking Frederick. 

 

The next few days are wild, to say the least. 

 

Gaius has been bribing half the office to put candy in his stocking, which hangs over his desk. No one else has a stocking. Just Gaius. Probably for this reason. 

 

Two days before Christmas, the only people left in the office are Chrom, Robin, Frederick, Lissa, Tharja, and, surprisingly, Stahl. 

 

“Don’t you have a family to spend Christmas with, Stahl?” Lissa asks. Robin winces at her lack of tact but also it’s kind of funny. How? Don’t ask him. It just is. 

 

“Yeah, but I need to finish these concepts for the new game.” Stahl grins. He’s so  _ cute. _ Jesus Christ. That boyish smile? Adorable. Who let this happen. A sudden chill runs down his spine. It feels like someone’s watching him watch Stahl, and being caught watching someone is totally  _ no bueno. _ He whirls around in his swivel chair to meet the eyes of an unlikely culprit: Tharja. 

 

Or perhaps she’s the most likely culprit?

 

“What are you doing here?” Robin hisses. Tharja’s eyes bore into his skull. Her desk is on the  _ other _ side of the office, purposefully farther away from his after he’d realized she’d taken an immediately liking to him. 

 

“Nothing,” she says lowly. Her grin is straight  _ creepy. _ Robin just nods slowly and turns back to his computer. Maybe solitaire will get his mind off of this. He’s just barely opened the app, though, when Tharja’s voice drifts over to him again. “Your hair smells nice.” 

 

Immediately, Robin jumps up and power-walks to Chrom’s office. Not today, Satan. 

 

Chrom looks up bemusedly when Robin strides in, closing the door behind him. “Hello, Robin. May I help you?” 

 

“Chrom,” Robin says, and his throat kind of closes up in that weird way it’s been doing around this guy. Can he even  _ call _ Chrom a guy? He’s like, a gentleman. A prince. Robin’s never seen him dressed to anything less than the nines, much less ever really relaxed. “Got any Christmas plans?” 

 

Jesus Christ he sounds so stupid. Chrom just raises an eyebrow, but he seems happy to respond. 

 

“Yes, I do. My sisters and I are all having dinner together. Do you?”

 

“Oh, uh, not really.” Robin sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll probably spend the day with my cat.” He half-expects Chrom to ask about his family, so he’s pleasantly surprised when no such question is brought forth. Robin doesn’t like talking about his family. As far as parents go, his are pretty shitty. 

 

“Care to join us, then?” Chrom’s offer is probably the most unexpected thing that’s happened today; Robin’s filled his excitement quota for the day, thank you very much.  _ Chrom?  _ Inviting him to dinner? With his  _ family? _ Whoa. 

 

“I’d love to,” Robin says quickly, but only after he realizes he’s been staring at Chrom for an awkward ten seconds. “You can text me the details, then.” 

 

“I look forward to it.” Chrom clicks a pen on his desk. “I hope a three day break will enough for you. You have a lot of time saved up if you need more.” 

 

Robin grins. “No, I like being here.” It’s mostly the truth. “Plus, how are you going to get things done without your trusty sidekick?” 

 

Chrom shakes his head, his smile mirroring Robin’s. “You are no sidekick, my friend. Anyway! Let’s wrap up for today so we can all head home.” 

 

“On it!” Robin salutes and steps out of the room, back to his desk. Hold out until Christmas, Robin. He has something to look forward to, now. 

 

* * *

 

The text comes from Chrom on Christmas morning. 

 

_ Good morning Robin! I hope to see you today at 6.  _

 

Something about that makes Robin’s heart stutter, but that’s not something he needs to pay attention to right now. What would he wear to a Christmas dinner? He hasn’t been to one in for-fucking-ever. Hell, he wasn’t even expecting to do anything on Christmas besides stay in and play with Morgan, and maybe watch an entire season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Which, by the way, is pure comedy gold in Robin’s book, though Gaius has been trying to get him to watch Stranger Things. But you know what? Robin needs lighthearted fun times with a hint of seriousness. Brooklyn Nine-Nine it is. 

 

For right now, though, that’s neither here nor there. Instead of daydreaming about all the shows he could be watching, he needs to shuffle through his closet to find something to wear and hire a catsitter, because Morgan is really tired of being left alone all day. It’s Christmas, anyway; maybe that’ll be Morgan’s gift this year. Robin sets a reminder on his phone to pick up a new toy for his cat. 

 

That night, Robin marvels up at Chrom’s giant house. He apparently lives here with his two sisters Lissa and Emmeryn, the latter of whom Robin has yet to meet. He presses a button for the doorbell and hears a chime distantly echo inside the house. Pretty soon, the door is open and he’s being ushered in and sweet Jesus this is  _ Chrom’s _ house! This is there he  _ lives _ ! If Robin didn’t feel like a right hand man before, he surely does now. 

 

“Oh, Frederick is coming as well,” Chrom says, smile on his lips, and Robin’s nodding before he even processes the words. Wait. Frederick? Nooooo. Frederick  _ hates _ him. Frederick’s always making fun of him and Robin will never forget the one time Frederick called him a savage for eating  _ mystery meat. _ It was on  _ sale _ at the  _ supermarket, _ Frederick, so  _ watch _ your  _ tongue. _

 

It might be a long night. 

 

* * *

 

“This is Emmeryn.” Chrom gestures to his sister to introduce her. “She made dinner tonight.” 

 

“Thank you for inviting me,” Robin says. They’re all sitting down at the table, so it’s hard to go over and give her a handshake or something, so Robin just nods in her direction. Emmeryn gives him a warm smile. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to have you,” she says kindly. 

 

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Robin says back, bobbing his head politely. Why did he agree to this. 

 

“Robin’s the assistant manager that Chrom never stops talking about,” Lissa quips. Thanks, Lissa. Robin was  _ going _ to take a sip of water, but looks like he doesn’t need to do  _ that _ anymore. At least he didn’t take a sip and choke like people so often do in fanfics. What’s with that? Uhh… anyway Robin does  _ not _ stay up late at night reading fanfiction about their company’s games. That would be weird. Robin’s not weird. (That’s a total lie.)

 

“Watch your tongue, dear sister,” Chrom says, humor glinting in his eyes. He seems so much more relaxed here than he does at the office, and honestly, Robin’s attached enough to him for the easygoing air to make him at least a little happy. It’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake. He’s allowed to be a little happy. 

 

“Robin, what’s your favorite type of fish?” Lissa asks suddenly. 

 

“What? How does that… Uh, I don’t know, whatever type tastes the best?” 

 

“You are accepted into the family,” Lissa says sagely. Robin’s left reeling. What did that have to do with anything? Why is fish an important topic? 

 

The rest of dinner goes similarly, read: bad for Robin’s heart, but ultimately hilarious and fun. Just take his word for it. 

 

* * *

 

Chrom sees Robin off. “Thank you for coming,” he says in that gentlemanly, polite way he regards most people. There’s something in his eyes, though, something like amusement flitting through them. 

 

“Does this make us friends?” Robin blurts. Damn him and his lack of a filter, sometimes. Chrom barks a laugh. 

 

“Were we not already?” He raises one eyebrow and all Robin can think is  _ fuck you, friend-boss. _

 

“Wonderful,” Robin says back. It doesn’t have to be awkward if he doesn’t want it to be. And God knows he wants it to be everything but awkward. “I’ll see you next week at work then, friend.” 

 

“See you then.” The door closes.

 

* * *

 

Robin’s eye twitches. “Inigo, why is Morgan in a cage?” 

 

Inigo scratches the back of his neck. “He wouldn’t stop running around, so…” 

 

“So you put him in a  _ cage _ ?” 

 

“Listen, I didn’t know what to do! I don’t have a cat!” 

 

“I thought that’s what Google’s for,” Robin says begrudgingly, but he hands over the check anyway. Note to self: choose someone  _ besides _ Inigo to catsit next time. 

 

He leans down and lets Morgan out of the cage. “Hey Morgan,” he says in his Reserved For Pets voice, “I got you something today!” 

 

* * *

 

Man, Robin’s really gotta love his job. He gets to eat lunch with his boss now. Talk about… updog. And ligma, which is Gaius’s new favorite thing to throw around in casual conversation. Honestly, why is Robin friends with the people he’s friends with. 

 

Everything is okay, though, because if nothing else, things are easier with Chrom. They talk about strategy and all that, but sometimes they talk about their lives: their concerns, their hopes, their dreams. It’s surprising what a close friend Robin’s  _ boss _ , of all people, has become, but he’s really not complaining. Chrom makes him happy, and he works extra hard to return the favor. 

 

Although, a quickly growing crush on your boss is really  _ not _ the best of situations to be in.  _ Especially _ not at the end of a chapter. 

 

Well, too bad for Robin. Guess he’ll just suffer. And hope, and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know how i feel about this chapter or even this fic tbh but you know what? i'm gonna go with it. i've spent too much time on it to not see it through


End file.
